
Class. 

Book iA^ulL:^ 

Copyright W /f .; 7 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



POEMS 



BY 

WILLIAM WHITMAN BAILEY 



PROVIDENCE 

PRESTON & ROUNDS COMPANY 

1909 






PRESENTATION EDITION 
FIFTY COPIES 

NO. 



Copyright, 1909 

BY 

William Whitman Bailey 



)Ci.A2r,3f-!0ii 



PREFACE 

IN this foreword I desire to express my sincere and 
cordial gratitude to those good friends who have 
countenanced my endeavor. Without their sugges- 
tion, approval, and aid, I should never have undertaken 
to issue my poems. As it is, I have excluded more 
than half the material in hand, using my best judg- 
ment as to what should be retained. 

The poems naturally group themselves as I have 
arranged them ; a plan which I think will commend 
itself to possible readers ; thus, any one interested in 
Nature or in Childhood will see at once just where to 
look for these subjects. As my friends represent 
many diverse lines of occupation and thought, it 
seemed only fair, as far as it was possible, to meet 
these divergencies. The essays cover about forty 
years. 

I especially desire to pronounce here my very deep 
appreciation of the earnest, arduous, and faithful aid 
given by Mr. Joseph LeRoy Harrison of the Provi- 
dence Athenreum. He was the first to urge upon me 
the publication and has done all in his power to accom- 
plish its success. To Mr. Howard W. Preston, my pub- 
lisher, I am also greatly indebted for professional advice 
and oversight, before and while the book was passing 
through the press. With much doubt and hesitation, 
I submit the little volume to the public. 

W. Whitman Bailey 
Providence 

November i, 1909 



CONTENTS 



Poems of Nature 



Liverworts 










II 


Calypso 










14 


Jack-in-the-Pulpit . 










16 


The Bloodroot 










18 


Anemone 










•9 


HOUSTONIA 










21 


Thistle-down 










23 


The First Anemone 










25 


A Lady's-Slipper 










26 


Three Pulpits 










28 


Blue Curls 










30 


Jack-in-the-Pulpit, a Fria 


R 








32 


Efig^a Asleep 










34 


The Golden Nest 










36 


Psyche 










38 


Jack Sleeps in the Pulpit 










40 


The Last Leaf 










42 


Two Crowns Imperial 










43 


The Painted Cup 










44 


Innocents 










46 


Spring 










48 


The Evening Primrose 










50 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 


To The Mayflower . . . . -5' 


The Closed Gentian 










S3 


October 










55 


Epig«a 










57 


My Riches 










S8 


The Liverwort 










59 


April 










6o 


My Wealth 










62 


Maples 










63 


Willow and Alder 










64 


A Shell 










65 


A Tulip 










66 


A Fairy Boat 










67 


My Shell 










69 


My Violets 








- 


70 


Jack-in-the-Pulpit 










71 


March 










72 


Jack Frost 










74 



Poems of Sentiment 



Reveille ...... 


79 


A Lady of Cremona .... 


81 


Regret ...... 


82 


To Corinne as Little Buttercup 


83 


My Ship 


85 


Thanksgiving ..... 


86 


Old Santy at Home .... 


88 



CONTENTS 



Christmas Eve 
The Christ-Child 
New-Year's Eve 
New-Year's Eve 



Poems of Childhood 



College Verse 
The Old Chair 
To Class of '64, 1870 
To Class of '64, i88j 
Thirtieth Reunion, Class of 1864 
To the Class of '64 
Alumni Dinner, New York, 1892 

Poems of Psi Upsilon 
Psi Upsilon .... 
The Ship Psi U 
A Rainy Night in Psi U 
Address to the Lambda Chapter 
New York Psi Upsilon Alumni . 



PAGE 
90 
92 

94 
95 



A Story of Peter Minorie 


• 99 


Meg ...... 


lOI 


A Birthday Poem .... 


. 103 


To Meg ..... 


. 105 


My Boy ..... 


. 106 


Meg's Hand ..... 


• '07 



"3 
116 
118 
120 
121 



125 
127 
129 
"30 
«32 



CONTENTS 



The Chapter House 

Sigma of Psi Upsilon 

Near, Yet Far 

Sigma Initiation, 1889 

Song to Psi Upsilon 

A Psi U Initiation . 

Sigma Initiation, 1891 

Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi U 

Sod- Raising, Sigma Chapter House 

Opening Sigma Chapter House 

Sigma Initiation Psi U, 1894 

Sigma Initiation, 1894 

A Psi U Enigma 

Dinner to Judge Francis N. Finch 

Mother, Dear, Psi Upsilon 

Sigma Initiation, 1903 

For Sigma Smoker, 1904 

At Sigma Initiation, October, 1895 

Sigma Initiation, 1905 

Mr. Talbot's Fiftieth Anniversary 

The Flag of Psi U 

Initiation at Sigma, 1899 

Sigma Initiation, 1907 

Sigma Initiation, 1900 



134 
136 
138 
139 
141 
142 
145 
147 
148 
150 

153 
156 
158 
160 
162 
164 
166 
168 
171 
'75 
'77 
179 
181 



POEMS 

O F 

NATURE 



LIVERWORTS 



LIVERWORTS 



THEY are laughing in the meadow, 
They are smiling in the dell ; 
Upon the woody hilltops 

The blue-eyed beauties dwell ; 
And unto those who love them, 
A pleasant tale they tell. 

They speak of sunny weather. 
Of birds and babbling brooks ; 

Of walks within the forest, 
And rest within its nooks ; 

And many a dreamy fancy 
Recorded not in books. 

In sweetest maiden beauty 

They mischievously peep. 
And laugh at later flowers 

Unwakened from their sleep, 
While tenderly they guard them 

And loving vigils keep. 



LIVERWORTS 



Mid fallen leaves and withered 
Some blush along the way, 

While others fleck the meadows, 
Or by the fountains stray, 

In white or blue habiliments 
To greet the April day. 

At frolic seem they ever ; 

Now hiding from my sight. 
And then together clustering, 

As if in half affright, 
Yet conscious of their holiday 

And happy in the light. 

None other coming flowers 
To me are dear as they. 

Of those that bloom in April, 
Or in the genial May. 

I would that thus to comfort me 
They evermore would stay. 

For tales of vanished childhood 
To me they sweetly sing. 

And to my fading memory 
They recollections bring 

Of home and loving faces, 
A precious offering. 



LIVERWORTS 



Unpluck'd I leave them growing 
Full thick about my feet, 

I cannot call them town-ward 
From out their fair retreat ; 

No refuge has the city 
For anything so sweet. 

The story that they tell to me 
Of pleasure and content ; 

Of hope and trusting confidence, 
However faith is bent ; 

This lesson I can bear away ; 
To teach it were they sent. 



CALYPSO 



CALYPSO 
(A rare orchid of the North) 

CALYPSO, goddess of an olden time, 
(I learn it not from any Grecian rhyme, 
And yet the story I can vouch is true), 
Beneath a pine-tree lost her dainty shoe. 

No workmanship of mortal can compare 
With what's exhibited in beauty there, 
And looking at the treasure 'neath the tree, 
The goddess's self I almost hope to see. 

The tints of purple and the texture fine ; 
The curves of beauty shown in every line ; 
With fringes exquisite of golden hue, 
Perfect the wonders of the fairy shoe. 

The goddess surely must have been in haste, 
Like Daphne fleeing when Apollo chased. 
And losing here her slipper by the way, 
Intends to find it on another day. 



CALYPSO 

And will she come to seek it here, or no ? 
The day is lengthening but I cannot go 
Until I see her bring the absent mate 
Of this rare beauty, though the time is late. 

I watch, but still no classic form I see ; 
Nought but the slipper 'neath the forest tree, 
And so, for fear of some purloining elf, 
The precious relic I secure myself ! 



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 



JACK -INT HE-PULPIT 



WITHIN his pulpit, striped with green and red, 
Jack, the itinerant, hfts his shaven head ; 
Absorbed he stands in quiet thought a time, 
But as the bell-worts ring the Sunday chime, 
I mark him closely, and he seems to say 
To all the plants about him, " Let us pray 1 " 

His voice is low, and yet I seem to hear 
His supplication and his words of cheer ; 
His sermons and his songs of joyous praise, 
In thanks to Heaven for its wondrous ways, 
And when I seek my homeward path, I know 
He gives his benediction as I go. 

He softly whispers as I turn away — 

" I make you welcome to my church to-day. 

In olden times I often spoke to men, 

And they would listen with indulgence then, 

But now, there 's scarcely more than one a year, 

Who comes to worship in my temple here. 



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 



" Though I can preach with faith uplifted higher 

Within the hearing of my forest choir 

The voice of tree-toads, and the warbler's trill, 

The leaves' faint murmur and the whispering rill. 

Than I could do within the city there, 

With all the approbation of the fair. 

" My raiment is uncouth, my pulpit queer. 
But no one heeds them in the wild-wood here. 
The squirrels listen, and the dusty bee 
Pauses from labor, and attends to me. 
His joyous course the butterfly delays ; 
The wood-thrush pauses in his song of praise." 

Eccentric preacher, you shall have your will. 
And I '11 be constant in attendance still. 
If you'll allow me here my mossy seat, 
On other Sundays when your hearers meet. 
So, Jack, your reverence, take my kind adieu. 
My best of wishes shall abide with you 1 



THE BLOODROOT 



THE BLOODROOT 

A TENDER plantlet, often seen 
In springtime, up the dark ravine, 
The bloodroot, with its star of glory 
Recalls old Vergil's tragic story. 
For, lo I the roots begin to bleed 
If one but touch the charming weed. 
And listening, we expect once more, 
The plaintive wail of Polydore. 
So white, so pure, so fair to see, 
Alas 1 can sin have tempted thee ? 
What horrid story can 'st thou tell 
Concerning this romantic dell ? 
Thy error must indeed be great 
To cause this pitiable fate. 
Cannot the blessed dew or rain 
Wipe out the much-olfeuding stain? 
Unhappy blossom, when shall rest 
The sorrow that disturbs thy breast ? 



ANEMONE 



ANEMONE 



AWAKE, Anemone I Awake again I 
xV The sunshine sparkles on the dropping rain, 
The sky is azure, and the storm is o'er ; 
Awake, Anemone ! Awake once more ! 

Awake, Anemone I Awake from sleep I 
Thy sister beauties from the mosses peep ; 
The tasseled alders dust me o'er with gold. 
Awake, Anemone 1 thy day is old ! 

Awake, Anemone I Dost slumber still ? 
I hear the music of the lapsing rill, 
I see the willow's silky tips appear ; 
Awake, Anemone 1 the spring is here I 

Awake, Anemone ! Why sleepest yet ? 
Thy tinted sepals with the dew are wet ; 
A tear-drop lingers on thy trembling leaf ; 
Awake, Anemone 1 thy time is brief 1 



ANEMONE 



Awake, Anemone ! in beauty rise 1 
Reveal thy wonders to my longing eyes ; 
For thee, my darling, I expectant wait ; 
Awake, Anemone 1 ere yet too late I 



HOUSTONIA 



HOUSTONIA 



HOUSTONIA, the delicate, 
Among us soon will be ; 
Her lilac cross exhibiting 
For worshippers to see. 
Who stroll into the meadows. 
Perhaps like you and me. 

The blossoms gather socially, 
As is the custom, when 

We meet upon the corners. 
In groups of nine or ten, 

To gossip of the weather 
Or of our fellow-men. 

A few, who seem the speakers, 
Their heads aloft uprear, 
While others bending over, 
The listeners appear. 

O, would that we could chronicle 
The news they seem to hear I 



HOUSTONIA 



Al:is ! we cannot iintlcrstand 
'Ihcir woids of weal or woe, 

Their pleasant stories of the field 
And how they daily grow. 

Tiio work that is allotted them 
We mortals cannot know. 



THISTLE-DOWN 



THISTLE-DOWN 



TlllSTLK-UOWN, Thi.sllc-down, whither away 1 
Can you not Hn^cr for one Httlc day ? 
Wait till to-morrow, my Thistle-down, do I 
And if I am ready, I'll My away, tool 

We'll have such a journey as never was seen ; 
Now o'er the billows, and then o'er the green ; 
Now in the meadow, and then on the hill. 
Flying and floating, and Hitting at will I 



And some little cloud we'll together pursue, 
That seems to be losing itself in the blue ; 
The dragon-fly chase as he skims o'er the lake ; 
The emigrant birds from the North overtake. 



We '11 learn where the rainbow begins, and its gold 
That is buried thereunder, together behold ; 
Now, does n't this tempt you, my Thistle down, bright, 
To pause for a day from your wandering flight ? 



THISTLE-DOWN 



Will nothing delay you ? Has Nature a need 
Entrusted alone to your gossamer seed ? 
Then, hasten away to your dance in the wind ; 
And leave me all lonely and longing behind ! 



THE FIRST ANEMONE 



THE FIRST ANEMONE 



HIDDEN under bushes, shrinkinj^ from the light, 
Lo ! a meek anemone, hiding from my sight, 
April's darling treasure, in the lap of May, 
Shivering in the breezes of the vernal day. 

Where have you been tarrying, blossom of my heart ? 
Coy girl Anemone, blushing here apart ? 
In a dew-drop mirror have you sought to look ? 
Did you dip your fingers in the laughing brook ? 

Do not tell me, lassie, you have been asleep ; 
Dreaming of the summer, in the mosses deep 1 
I could then have found you, blooming there alone, 
Caught you, and claimed you, for my very own. 

Bashful Anemone 1 I shall hold you fast. 
May has now resigned you to my care at last. 
Never to leave you in the wind and wet ; 
Never to forsake you, never to forget 1 



LADY'S-SLIPPER 



A LADVS-SLIPPER 



PERHAPS Titania, wandering by the way, 
Espied this slipper in her path one day, 
A yellow sandal, striped with bands of red, 
And stitched with many a mystic golden thread. 

She doffed her satin wonder of a shoe — 
Beyond the beauties that we mortals knew, 
And left it here, by elfin wishes blessed, 
A peerless sandal that a queen has pressed. 

Or is this slipper gleaming in the grass. 
Fair Cinderella's tiny shoe of glass ? 
May be the Prince, who never can forget 
His lovely partner, seeks its fellow yet. 

Or did some Indian Princess, in the chase. 
Leave here a relic of her dusky race ? 
A beaded buskin, set with gems and gold, 
A prize indeed, for any sachem bold 1 



LADY'S-SLIPPER 



I think no mortal can attain the gifts 

This wondrous treasure from the grounil to hft, 

The tale may yet be told by fairy pen, 

We leave its mystery unrevealed till then. 



THREE PULPITS 



T H K K E P U 1. P I T S 



TIIRElil painted pulpits, close to the ground, 
Three little preachers looking around, 
Each pretty violet lilting her head, 
Eager to learn what each of them said. 

liiittcrlly sextons the lily-bells ring. 
The wee congregation together to bring, 
One dainty blossom, in haste to her pew, 
Lost hei' silk slipper, O what shall she do ? 

The Trillium nods to the sermon asleep ; 
Perhaps he has drunk of the painted cup, deep, 
And if a collection is now taken up, 
In lieu of the coin is gold butter-cup. 

Through birch and beech windows the sunny day shines. 
The organ is sounded by fair columbines. 
The birds are the choir, the clerk is a bee, 
1 hope when he rises, he '11 fail to see me. 



THREE PULPITS 29 

Bumble-beedle, they call him, the daring profane, 
He chides the plant Olivers, asking again. 
And if he doth catch me in seeking for "more," 
I'll seem to be sleeping and utter a snore. 

Three little preachers are silent to men. 

But if we don't hear them and heed them, what then ? 

Their own congregation is surely much better. 

To do their whole duty in spirit and letter. 



BLUE CURLS 



BLUE CURLS 

THE tint of the sky 
Has been given to you ; 
In your sweet little eye 

And your bonnet of blue, 
In the shade of your gown, 

In your dress, in your hair, 
In your gems, in your crown, 
There is blue everywhere. 

Was Blue-Beard your father, 

My pretty Blue Curls? 
They say he was rather 

Too partial to girls ; 
What charm of his daughter 

Induced him to spare 
From general slaughter 

Thy maidenhood fair ? 

Did he love your poor mother, 
The dearest and best. 

Who for some whim or other 
He sent to her rest ? 



BLUE CURLS 

Did he dote on your tresses, 
The hue of his beard ? 

Did he seek your caresses, 
Or was he afeared ? 

However he ended. 

In sorrow or glee. 
No sin has descended 

From him upon thee ; 
No crimsoning stain 

Of his scimitar wild 
Shall ever remain 

On his innocent child. 



J A C K - I N-TH E- P U L PIT , A FRIAR 



JACK-IN- THE- PULPIT, A FRIAR 

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, 
The Reverend Jack, 
On the church of his fathers 

Now turneth his back ; 
A penitent hermit, 

With hmited needs, 
He counts with devotion, 
His rosary beads. 

No longer in garments 

Of green and of black, 
A simpler attire 

Sufficeth for Jack ; 
And even his pulpit, 

That once was his pride. 
For humbler surroundings 

He now puts aside. 

I did not suppose 

That my Methodist John 
The robes of a friar 

Would ever put on ; 



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, A FRIAR 33 

With bell and with candle 

Would celebrate mass, 
Or hear a confession, 

Alas 1 John, alas ! 

These new-fangled notions 

O, Jack, will not do 
For such simple bodies 

As look up to you ; 
But they will forgive you 

If you will remain ; 
Then come to the arms 

Of your people again. 

I think you in Spring-time 

Will surely return 
To your orthodox habits, 

For which you must yearn, 
And when the Anemones 

Look in your eyes 
For comfort and hope, 

You'll repent and be wise. 



34 EPIGyEA ASLEEP 



E P 1 G yi<: A ASLEEP 

ARIUJTUS lies beneath the snows, 
Wliilc winter waits her brief repose, 
And says, " No fairer (lower grows 1 " 

Of sunny Ai)ril days she dreams. 

Of robins' notes and nuunuuing streams. 

And smiling in her sleep she seems. 

She thinks her rosy Inids expand 
Beneath the toiieh of childhood's hand. 
And beauty breathes throughout the land. 

The arching alders bending o'er 
The silent river's sandy shore, 
Their golden tresses trim once more. 

The pussy-willows in their play 
Their varnished caps have Hung away, 
And hung their furs on every spray. 

The toads their cheery music chant. 
The sc|uirrel seeks his summer haunt. 
And life revives in every plant. 



£PIOi«A ASLEEP 35 

" I must awake ! I hear the bee 1 

The butterfly I long to see I 

The buds are bursting on the tree 1 " 

Ah I bh)ss<)m, thou art dreaming, dear, 
The wild winds howl about thee here. 
The dirges of the dying year I 

Thy gentle eyes with tears are wet ; 
In sweeter sleep these pains forget ; 
Tiiy merry morning conies not yet I 



THE GOLDEN NEST 



THE GOLDEN NEST 



AT Colchis once, in days of old, 
x*. Brave Jason sought the fleece of gold, 
And wandering through the woodland green 
Beheld afar its shimmering sheen. 

The tiny birds who watched the sight. 
Were filled with emulous delight. 
And in their songs, from sire to son, 
Recounted how the deed was done. 

At length a precious prize they found ; 
A maiden's golden hair unbound, 
And with its filmy fibres spread 
The curtains of their nuptial bed. 

To them the lustrous lock was deemed 
The place of which the poets dreamed, 
While she, of priceless gift bereft, 
Has never known the cunning theft. 



THE GOLDEN NEST 



Yet travelers, sauntering in the glade, 
Astonished, view the cradle swayed 
By murmurous winds, which ne'er reveal 
The secret which the birds conceal. 



PSYCHE 



PSYCHE 

To Mrs. Sakaii Hf.i.kn Whitman 

(To the Greeks I'syehe was a butterily and was also 
the Soul) 



1 SPOKE last evening to a doubting lady, 
Of the molh Luna, of its size and beauty ; 
" Find me this wonder in some woodland shady," 
She said ; and 1 went forth unto my duty. 

Yet had her light behest passed from me wholly 
Wlien sauntering town ward through a forest way, 

I saw upon a shrub that blossomed lowly, 
The lovely Luna in her green array. 



Like some sweet soul but newly passed the portal. 
Her early ehrysalis she had disdained, 

And with the impulse of a thing immortal, 
She strove to use the wings she had attained. 



But maybe newborn spirits lack the power 
Of flight, at once, within that better sphere, 

Nor can they free themselves within the hour. 
From things that bind them to existence here. 

" ' Tis Psyche ! ' tis the Soul 1 " I said, " Eureka 1 
" It is a spirit from the shadowy land ; 

That doubting lady, I'll arise and seek her. 
That she may be convinced and understand." 

I went ; she saw, and at it marvelled duly, 
Nor wonders now at my triumphant praise ; 

She frankly owns that I had spoken truly. 
And God is great in his mysterious ways. 



40 JACK SLEEPS IN THE PULPIT 



JACK S L E E r S IN T 1 1 IC PI' I. P I T 



OUR (|uaiiit little pioaihcr 
Is liiildeii away, 
Aslrt'p 'noath the leaves 
Till the sunshiny May 
Awakes all the flowers 
To frolie antl play 

Though he is sleeping, 
His sernums will take, 

Unhiililen, a form 

In his (Ireani till he wake ; 

Be silent in falling then 
Each ilowny flake ! 

So long as the flowers 
Are such giddy things ; 

While the fell dragon flies 
Flutter on wings, 

A reason for jireaching 
Each vernal time brings. 



JACK SLEEPS IN THE PULPIT 

The parish is large, 

The duties are great ; 
The priest must be active 

Both early and late, 
And save all the erring 

From whatever fate. 



THE LAST LliAF 



THE LAST LEAF 

I'VE bathed in April showers ; 
I've welcomed summer flowers 
Lvc blushed in autumn sun, 
To think what I have done. 

Now my days are o'er, 
I'll never whisper more 
My story in the breeze 
To all the listening trees. 

Now I gladly go. 
Friends are lying low. 
Ah I the time is brief 
For mortal and for leaf. 

I end my trembling quest — 
I've gained the promised rest — 
At peace with all to die, 
Thou sad old world, goodbye I 



TWO CROWNS IMI'ERIAL 



TWO CROWNS IMPERIAL 

TWO crowns imperial for me 1 
To part with either I am loth, 
And yet I think you will agree, 
I surely cannot wear them both. 

Were I Germania's Kaiser boy, 
I might perha])s the thing contrive, 

The dual baubles to enjoy, 

And make my double kingdom thrive. 

But as a child of Yankee birth, 
These coronets of fatal gleam 

Excite my democratic mirth, 

But not ambition's vaulting dream. 

I'll keep them for the giver's sake, 

Apart ui)on my curio shelf. 
No tyrant hand the crowns shall take, 

Ere that, I'll wear them both myself I 



THE PAINTED CUP 



THE PAINTED CUP 



THE fairy king in wrath one day, 
His mystic chalice flung away, 
For, though with nectar half filled up, 
He scorned to touch the painted cup. 



Yet, if by brooks I pause to drink, 
His beaker stands upon the brink. 
And in the crystal far below 
I see it's evanescent glow. 



It lures me through the marshy ground 
It's scarlet splendor all around, 
And I could wish the cruel fay 
Would take his sinful cup away. 



Forever, now, with wine deep dyed, 
I see it by the river side, 
Betraying by its tempting gleam 
All such as wander by the stream. 



THE PAINTED CUP 

No fay comes seeking through the sedge, 
Perhaps the king has signed the pledge, 
For reddened by its brilhant stains, 
Untasted still the cup remains. 



INNOCENTS 



INNOCENTS 

YE bright little Innocents, 
Gathered in play, 
Have you been sleeping 

This many a clay ? 
Hid you your faces 
So gentle and shy 
When fiercely the tempest 
Was hurrying by ? 

Did you wear your blue bonnets 

When under the sleet ? 
Alas 1 had you nothing 

To cover your feet ? 
Did you cluster together 

To keep out the cold ? 
Did any rash blossom 

Her petals unfold ? 

Have you seen Epigaea 
When taking her nap ? 

Or fair Pussy-willow 
In ermine and cap ? 



INNUCJiNTS 47 

Has Alder her tresses 

Combed out in the breeze ? 
Have jjrctty young maple buds 

Blushed from the trees ? 

I see you all whispering 

And nodding together 
As other folks do 

In this glorious weather ; 
But what you are saying 

I really can't tell, 
So, beautiful blossoms, 

I bid you farewell I 



SPRING 

THE loads ill the marshes 
Arc tuning their throats, 
The robins arc chanting 
Their merriest notes ; 
The aiders are combing 
Their tresses of gold, 
And bees in their rambles 
Are busy and bold. 

The pussy-cat willows 

Are downy and soft, 
The maple is swinging 

Its censers ak)ft ; 
The first dandelion 

Has burst into bloom, 
And breezes are full of 

The richest perfume. 

The pretty Mayflower 
Has waked from her nap, 

The innocence smiles 
From her violet cap, 



The liverwort gazes 

In girlish surprise, 
With a look both of shame 

And of fear in her eyes. 

The Saxifrage hastens 

Fair April to greet, 
The Blood-root looks down 

On her suffering feet, 
The yellow Five-fingers 

Are gemming the green, 
And Violets lovingly 

Bloomhig between. 

The Columbines ringing 

Their musical knells. 
To winter are flinging 

Their happy farewells ; 
For spring with its sunshine 

And beauty is here, 
And everything welcomes 

The opening year. 



THE EVENING PRIMROSE 



THE E V E N 1 N c; P R I M R (> S E 



ISTCHM) ill awe before a simple llower, 
ICxpanding silently at evening how, 
And wateheil to see each petal fair unfold 
To form, at length, a perfect cross of gold. 

I merely whispered, " It is sacred ground ; 
The Holy Cirail I now, at length, have found 1 
No longer need I weary in the quest. 
My search is o'er ; behold the perfect rest I 



r O r H E M A Y K 1. C) W !• R 



TO T 11 V. M A ^' 1'^ 1. O \V IC R 



BENEATH protecting leaves. 
Secure from prying- thieves, 
Fair l^iigaa's face 
Reveals its maiilen graee. 



When cruel winter goes. 
And sunshine melts the snows, 
She lifts her gentle head. 
And peeps from out her beil. 

Half coy, and half slighting, 
Her glance is all inviting, 
She docs not seek to hide, 
Nor dares she yet contide. 

Sweet bkissom, do not fear, 
I'll leave thee growing here ; 
I love thee far t(n> well. 
Thy whispered liumghl to ull. 



TO THE MAYFLOWER 



Live safe beside the way, 
The spot I'll ne'er betray, 
But, though I fail to speak, 
Thy home I'll often seek. 



THE CLOSED GENTIAN 



THE CLOSED GENTIAN 

FAIR Gentian, come, thy secret to me tell, 
What dost thou hide within thy azure cell ? 
What sacred treasure keep from human view 
Beyond the curtains of thy blossom blue ? 

Are thy sweet eyes forever closed in sleep ? 

Cannot thy lover take one little peep ? 

Or dost thou grant alone unto the bee 

To thus commune in silent thought with thee ? 



Some say, thou art Pandora's box of old. 
That all the troubles of the world did hold ; 
I wonder now if underneath thy cope. 
Remains, as then, one fond and lingering hope. 

The scarlet cardinal in his pomp and pride. 
His priestly terrors long in vain has tried ; 
He cannot wrest confession of a sin. 
Or hope thy trembling, gentle soul to win. 



THE CLOSED GENTIAN 



I think a sorrow, not a sin, concealed, 
Thou wilt at last to tender pleading yield. 
And he will hear who learns thy secret then, 
A tale of love unknown to other men. 



OCTOBER 



OCTOBER 

THE leaves are falling one by one, 
The clematis has nearly spun 
Her feathery cap, and golden ferns 
Are seen where'er the woodsman turns. 



'Tis pleasant now " in good greenwood, 
VVlicro, like some errant Robin Hood, 
We wander walking all day long. 
Or wake the forest glades with song. 



Upon the stream in silence floats 
The leafy fleet of fairy boats, 
And far above, in azure sky. 
The clouds, like ships, go sailing by ; 



The asters, with the golden-rod. 
Beside the pathways smile and nod, 
And gentian's eye of tcndercst blue 
Laughs through its fringed lids at you. 



OCTOBER 



Soon all these beauties will have fled, 
Each tinted leaflet will be dead, 
And where the summer roses grow. 
In gathering drifts will lie the snow. 



E P I G j« A 



EPI G^ A 

(Sent to Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman hi reply 
to her "Arbutus," sent to me, 1875) 

IT is not always that one meets 
A true wood-lover on the streets, 
Nor often that there haps along. 
One full of fairy dream-land's song, 
To whom belong of right the things 
A wanderer from the forest brings. 

Arbutus, loving and loved much. 
Transfigured grows beneath her touch, 
And leads us through the golden haze, 
By piney woods, and willowy ways. 
Or where the alder's tresses beam 
In dazzling light above the stream. 

It is a pleasure to bestow 

These buds suffused with alpine-glow, 

On one who has the subtle power 

To grace with verse each modest flower, 

For surely all the flowers belong 

Of right unto the Queen of Song ! 



MY RICHES 



MY RICHES 

I DO not care what others seek, 
Of diamonds or of gold, 
When I such wealth can e'er bespeak. 

All mine, that I behold; 
They buy their yachts and sail the sea — 
What place in all their games for me ? 
They see strange lands ; well, do not I, 
And such as they can never spy ? 
From heights serene 
Where dwells my queen. 
My lovely daffodilly — 
Where tulips grow 
And jonquils blow — 

I think their doings silly. 
I have coupons as well as they ; 
I cut them in the month of May, 
While what they have will meet an end — 
I reap perpetual dividend I 



THE LIVERWORT 



THE LIVERWORT 



BLUE-EYED blossom, somewhere sleeping, 
While the winter clouds are heaping, 
Dream you now of sunny hills, 
Of mossy, fern-engirdled rills ? 

How I long to see expand 
The velvet fingers of thy hand ; 
To catch thy smile, so full of glee. 
And play at hide-and-seek with thee I 

For thou wert with me when a child, 
I wandered in the woodlands wild. 
And peopled every glade with things 
Too marvelous for manhood's springs. 

And still, however changes came 
To me, thou hast remained the same, — 
The simple, pure, delicious joy, 
I knew thee when I was a boy. 



APRIL 



THE blucbinls sin^'^ 
" It is spring I It is spring 1 " 
The robin chants 
In his old-time haunts, 
And from the deeps 
Of the swamp there " peeps " 
The cheery note 
Of the hyla's throat ; 
Afar on the breeze, 
From the maple trees, 
Merrily come and go the bees ; 
And here and there a butterfly 
Essays his new-formed wings to try ; 
A spider on his giddy thread 
Climbs to the mizzen-topmast head 
Of some wrecked weed, 
Stranded by autumn in its need ; 
The windflower, bashful in its grace, 
Seeks to conceal its pretty face ; 
The " Quaker ladies " meet together 
To talk of suffrage or the weather ; 



Over the earth the genial glow 
Of spring-time bids the blossoms blow, 
And birches droop their golden hair 
Above my pathway everywhere. 
No wonder that the bluebirds sing 
Or Hyla cheers us with his voice — 
A thousand buds proclaim the spring, 
And bid us to " Rejoice 1 Rejoice I " 



MY WEALTH 



MY WEALTH 

I SEEK not the gold that shines 
In the depth of western mines ; 
The sugar-maples hold 
In their hands a purer gold. 
In coin I wade knee-deep, 
All mine, if I care to keep, 
And a shower of ducats fall 
At my very lightest call. 
Who says that the wealth I own 
Is surpassed by a glittering stone .'' 
He feels not the mellow glow 
Of these trembling leaves, I know, 
Nor can he by wildest guess, 
Conceive what I possess. 



63 



MAPLES 

LIKE Grecian hero of the ancient clays, 
J I silent stand in wonder and amaze 
Within October's dreamy veil of haze. 

While round me leaves are falling everywhere, 
With gentle motion through the ambient air. 
Their gold seems sifted into something rare. 

The far-famed garden of Hesperides 
Showed nothing fairer to brave Hercules 
Than yonder golden glory of the trees. 

Nor yet would Jason and his comrades bold 
Have sought in Colchis for the fleece of gold 
Had they but known the prize our maples hold 



WILLOW AND ALDER 



WILL O W AND ALDER 



Sl'",l'^, pretty Pussy-willow 
In ermine mantle clad, 
Is strolling by the river, 

To make the alders glad. 
For all her yellow tresses 

In sunlight gleam with gold ; 
The breezes gently toss them 

In many a wondrous fold. 
These are my vernal ilarlings — 

This ever-wedded pair ; 
My lad with silky raiment. 

This lass with iiolden hair. 



A SHELL 

I FOUND a fairy boat upon the shore, 
Ono little seat it had, and nothing more ; 
What boiiiulless ocean had it wandered o'er ? 

The venturous boatman, where, indeed, was he, 
Who launched this shallop on the billowy sea. 
And left it stranded on the beach for me I 

Did he with promise fair and hope set sail. 
To seek his fortune with the favoring gale ? 
And did he reach the land, or did he fail ? 

He leaves no record of his viking quest ; 
His deeds of prowess are but faintly guessed. 
And ocean murmurs of his peaceful rest. 



A TULIP 

BRIGHT, golden chalice, opening to the sun, 
Tliou art the prize my winter work hath won 
I well could bear the sleet and cold and rain 
To see thy pure and gladsome face again ; 
To note thy sepals, day by day, unfold. 
And sun myself in thy transcendent gold! 
To watch the bee, that maple-blooms invite, 
Pause at thy shrine ere yet he takes his flight. 
My Holy Grail thou art, and I shall be 
Better and purer for the sight of thee. 



67 



A FAIRY BOA T 



LONG ago a little fairy 
J Hiiilt himself a tiny boat, 
F"ashioi\cil from a cup of acorn, 
And he set il then afloat. 



Spider 's-\vcl> eomposeil the rigging, 
Masts were made of grasses tall ; 

Spiders, they are active sailors ; 
Rarely do they have a fall I 

Wings of moths he made his sails of, 
Glittering with a myriad hues, 

When he asked a fairy maiden 

" Would she sail ? " Could she refuse ? 



Anil so, a tricksy spirit lassie 
Steppeti upon his shallop light ; 

I saw them start, but in a moment 
Groom and bride were out of sight. 



A FAIRY BOAT 

Often, when in woodlands pausing 
By some cool and shaded spring, 

The fairy ship on billows tossing 
Passes me, all wondering. 

Then I hear, too, elfin laughter. 
Tinkling music, as from bells, 

Little hands are surely waving, 
Perhaps to me, their gay farewells. 



MY SHELL 



MY SHELL 



A PRETTY spiral stairway 
Leads up into my shell, 
I would that I could follow 
A story it might tell. 

Perhaps up yonder staircase, 
Whose pearly steeps I see, 

There is an attic chamber. 
All hung with filigree. 

Maybe there sits the maiden 
Who sings that solemn song, 

That deep within the chamber - 
Is echoed all day long 1 

She is a weary lassie — 
Despite her house of pearl, 

Will not someone release her. 
This long imprisoned girl ? 



MY VIOLETS 



MY VIOLETS 

THEY tumble over the border, 
I cannot keep them in : 
They revel in disorder, 

They laugh and freedom win. 

Defiant of endeavor 

To keep them from the grass, 
They smile on me forever, 

Each bluc-eyed, wayward lass. 

I've tried to check the riot, 

Alas 1 it is in vain ; 
They never will keep quiet, 

But run away again. 

I love them all the better, 
And now the truth is told. 

Than if, by silken fetter 
I could each blossom hold. 



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 



JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 

I FOUND a camp-meeting of teachers, 
Most wonderful ever was seen ; 
Such quaint and prim Httle preachers, 
In pulpit of purple and green. 

I knew not the words they were saying ; 

The sermon did not understand, 
But saw all the flowers a-praying, 

And hid my own face in my hand. 



MARCH 



WHEN the tassels of the alders 
Begin again to swing, 
When robins from the tree-tops 

Their morning carol sing, 
I hear the blackbirds chatter, 
I know what is the matter, 
'Tis the advent of the Spring. 

Then the "pussies" on the willows 
Protrude their silky caps ; 

The hylas chant their joyous song. 
Awakened from their naps ; 

A snow pile yonder lingers, 
But spring with gentle fingers 

Will cause it soon to lapse. 

Now look for epigasa 

Along the forest way, 
Or liverworts in frolic mood. 

That bloom for us to-day ; 



73 



By many a rocky splinter 

They triumph over winter, 
And laugh in merry play. 

And, lo ! a shining crocus, 
A cup of burnished gold. 

Within our very garden 
The Holy Grail behold I 

No more we are despairing 

Since March has grown as daring 

As those brave knights of old. 



74 JACKFROST 



JACK 1'" K I) ST 



A BUSY, blight spirit is Mr. J;uk Frost, 
And a niisohicvous elf withal ; 
Ho bridges the river with ice across. 
He spans the waterfall. 

Ho builds hiiu a j)alaoo of crystal fair, 

Which jewels and gems ailorn. 
Brighter than those we frame of air 

In wakinu ilroanis of morn. 



With iipals the spider's not ho wea\os, 

Lilio veil of fairy queen. 
He scatters his stars o'er fallen loaves, 

Which glitter in icy sheen. 

Each moss is a spearman, dight in mail, 
Who stands at his post erect. 

Some minim seeker of Holy Grail 
l'"rom Arthur's court direct. 



JACK FROST 

Ami J.nk will toiuh the wiinldw-paiic 
Anil o'er the Held of glass, 

Behold we sec brave dons of Spain, 
And noble ladies pass. 

With crayon bold a fern he draws 

So delicate in its grace, 
It seems a (ilni of airy gauze 

Or woven web of lace. 



POEMS 

O F 

SENTIMENT 



REVEILLE 79 



REVEILLE 



M(.)RN o'cv the imiuntaiii 
Now begins to poop ; 
Glistens on the fountain ; 

Soldier wake from sleep, 
Rouse thee to thy duty, 
Seize thy ready gun. 
Dream no more of beauty, 
Ei'jhtinti's now the fun 1 



Hurry up I oh, hurry up 1 for dress don't care; for 

dress don't care I 
The enemy is lively ; he will not scare I 
Hurry up! oh, hurry up! the tlay is clear; the day is 

clear I 
Hasten to the rt)ll-call ; haste and answer, " Here 1 " 

Dawn on the billows 

Now begins to gleam ; 
Rouse thee from thy pillows, 

Wake thee from thy dream ; 



REVEILLE 



Hear the muskets rattle, 
See the bayonets shine, 

Hie thee to the battle. 
Danger's place be thine ! 



LADY OF CREMONA 



A LADY OF CREMONA 



OH, could I but contrive to win 
One chord of yonder violin, 
That lassie with her flowing hair 
Contrives to touch with feeling rare, 
I'd hold it till the wire was thin, 
Nor care for all men thought, a pin. 

She touches it with such a grace, 
Such winsome beauty 's in her face, 
That I could gaze for hours alone 
Entranced like Orpheus' block of stone, 
Nor ever dream of other peace, 
Until her perfect music cease. 

Does she perchance, her influence know, 
When melodies like these will flow 
To lull the weary heart to rest. 
Or wake the angel in my breast .'' 
Will she be merciful to me ? 
1 cannot long such sorrow dree 1 



REGRET 



REGRET 



FOR the river I long, athirst, 
Like one in a desert land, 
Who looks over miles accursed 
With a wearying waste of sand. 

The mirage reveals a rill, 

A cooling inland lake ; 
I will arise and fill ; 

My anguished yearning slake. 

I go to the promised spot 
By beckoning palm trees led, 

The river — I find it not ; 
The sea itself is dead. 



TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP 



TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP 



WHERE dost thou gain the art 
That thus has touched my heart 
Thou wondrous mite ? 
Where all the mimic graces, 
The airs and the grimaces, 
Which so delight ? 

A " Buttercup " art thou — 
The only one, I vow, 

I 've ever seen ; 
Though many of the name 
My homage seek to claim, 

Thou art the queen 1 

Don't " mix those children up," 
Lest my repleted cup 

Shall bubble o'er ; 
And do not, for my sake. 
That youthful captain take 

Forever more 1 



TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP 

The years with sorrow laden, 
Deal gently with thee, maiden, 

I pray they will 1 
Nor hasten to grow up. 
Sweet little Buttercup, 

Be little still 1 



M Y S H I P 85 



M \' s n 1 r 



MY ship is oil Ihc sea, 
I long for her alway, 
She comes not home to nie, 
O, whither docs she stray ? 

1 meet with sailor men 

Who roam the billowy deep, 

But none of them do hear 
Wiiat doth ni)' vessel keep. 

They've seen her in the calm, 

But shadowy and afar ; 
Where rise the isles of palm, 

Where gleams the southern star 

I know she bears me gold, 

If only I could win. 
When shall I her behold — 

And hail her coming in ? 



THANKSGIVING 



THANKSGIVING 

THANKS for tlie crimson apples ; 
Thanks for the golden grain ; 
For summer's pleasant sunshine; 

For April's genial rain 1 
Give thanks for all the flowers 

That God in beauty sends, 
But most of all show gratitude 
For kind and generous friends. 

What matter if the forest tree 

No longer wears the leaf ? 
Our kindly mother Nature 

But tries our unbelief ; 
And she herself in thankfulness 

Now seeks a brief repose, 
And smiles upon us lovingly 

From out her robe of snows. 

Thanks for the Nation's liberty, 
Thanks for our wealth's increase, 

For faith, for hope, for charity. 
And, most of all, for peace 1 



THANKSGIVING 87 

Blow winds, our glad thanksgiving, 
Ye ocean billows roar. 
And swell the hymn of gratitude 
To God forever more I 



OLD SANTY AT HOME 



OLD SANTY AT HOME 



OLD Santy lives in a cave of ice, 
Adorned with many a strange device 
For where the Catskill mountains high 
Uprear their summits to the sky, 
With frosty pinnacle and tower. 
He dwells within a secret bower. 



' Tis here he makes the wondrous toys 
To please the hearts of girls and boys, 
Here dolls and hoops, and candies, too, 
With balls and books exposed to view. 
And Christmas-trees all cut to size 
Delight the marvelling stranger's eyes. 

A thousand lamps of crystal gleam — 
One sees as in a fairy dream ; 
For ne'er could chandelier of glass — 
These frosty ones in hue surpass ; 
Nor could a human mirror show 
These changing colors of the bow. 



OLD SANTY AT HOME 



Here curious dwarfs, with skilful hand, 
At workshop tables seem to stand, 
While one, the leader of them all. 
With folded arms surveys the hall, 
And in a little note-book takes 
A record of what each one makes. 

No married man is Santy, he 
Delights to work for you and me ; 
And when the summer days are hot 
He toils within his mountain grot ; 
For well he knows the children may 
Expect him on next Christmas day. 

When at length the time conies round 
There's nearly always something found. 
But few who give a Christmas gift 
Have toiled o'er mountain, rock and drift. 
To see where Santy makes the things 
Which every year he kindly brings. 



CHRISTMAS EVE 



CHRISTMAS EVE 



IS yon the little star that shone 
O'er Bethlehem's field of old, 
To guide the wise men of the East 
To him who was fore-told ? 
It shines as bright 
This wintry night 
As centuries ago 
It hailed the coming of the light 
And end of human woe. 



It twinkles high above the cross 

That tops the minster spire; 
It hears the chiming of the bells 
And music of the choir. 
This star we view 
In heaven's blue 
Shall light us on the way 

And be to us a promise true 
Of God's unending sway. 



CHRISTMAS EVE 



I hear the organ's glorious hymn 

And children's voices sweet 
Uniting with the seraphim 
" All Glory 1 " to repeat. 
The day is nigh ; 
Fair is the sky 
And lovely is the dawn, 

No more shall man be doomed to die 
For lo 1 the Christ is born 1 



92 THE CHRIST-CHILD 



THE CHRIST-CHILD 



BESIDE the Christmas tree 
Lies an infant fair to see, 
As the twiUgiit of the dawning 
Steals in on Christmas morning. 

Just as the masters paint 
The halo of a saint, 
In sacred missals olden, 
He wears a glory golden. 

The German legends say 
The Christ-child comes to-day, 
And to the children brings 
Great store of precious things. 



But most of all he cheers 
The orphan child in tears, 
And boars from God above 
Sweet messages of love. 



THE CHRIST-CHILD 



O this is surely He 
Whom thus I seem to see, 
For from the unknown shore 
A hope returns once more. 



NEW-YEAR'S EVE 



NEW-YEAR'S EVE 



TOLL the bell, the year is going, 
While without the winds are blowing 
And the tempest fiercer growing. 
With its rain and sleet and snowing, 
Ring out the parting knell 1 
To the good old year, farewell ! 
Of the new no man is knowing. 

Chime the bells, the glad New Year 
With its joy and smiles, is near ; 
With its comfort and its cheer, 
And hope for every fear, 

O let the merry chime 

Give welcome to the time. 
The happy day is herel 



NEW-YEAR'S EVE 



NEW-YEAR'S EVE 



TH E year is dying — 
It 's hours flying; 
And, as they go, 
The falHng snow 
In drifts is lying. 

Our watch we keep 
While others sleep. 
To hear the bell 
That tolls farewell 
To feelings deep. 

Forget the past, 

Now fading fast ! 
It's pleasures gone 
Why should we moan ? 

They could not last. 

The new-born year 

Behold is here 1 
There 's work to do 
For me and you. 

Be of good cheer 1 



POEMS 

O F 

CHILDHOOD 



STORY OF PETER MINORIE 



A STORY OF PETER MINORIE 

PETER MINORIE 
In his little dory, 
Decked in all his glory 
Went a row to take 
When, as he was sailing. 
He leaned upon the railing. 
And from sudden failing, 
Fell into the lake. 

Alas 1 for little Peter 1 
Nothing could be sweeter, 
No costume newer, neater. 

Than that he wore to-day ; 
But now 'tis wet and clinging. 
As homeward they are bringing 
The boy who went out singing, 

Upon the beauteous bay. 

Yes, true I 'twas very silly 
To pluck the water-lily. 
He 'd have it willy-nilly. 
So now he comes to grief ; 



STORY OF PETER MINORIE 



And every little fellow 
On shore began to bellow, 
And Towser (he is yellow) ; 
Swims out to his relief. 

No dog was ever better 
(They say he is a setter), 
For though he now was wetter 

Than ever known before ; 
He brought his little master, 
Now sinking faster, faster, 
And white as alabaster. 

Unto the nearest shore. 

No need of further weeping. 
Our Peters' merely sleeping 
And there is Towser peeping 

To see him well bestowed, 
When next he goes out rowing. 
He '11 surely be more knowing. 
Than seek a flower growing 

In such a wet abode. 



MEG 



SWEET dreams possess my winsome lass, 
Fair Cinderella's pumpkin couch 
By her is plainly seen, alas ! 

When fatal hours of change approach. 

She sees her leave the merry dance, 
And haste the marble steps adown, 

But grieves not at the cruel chance. 
Foreseeing still the royal crown. 

Invisible, with Percinet 

She can the step-dames' plans derange ; 
The gnomes within the wood have met, 

Nor deems a transformation strange. 

She can discern a beauteous land 

Where sugar trees grow broad and wide ; 

Where candy pebbles form the sand, 
And chocolates are on every side. 



For her 'tis nothing to descend 
With fair Undine beneath the sea; 

Ah ! water maiden, please to send 
My precious lassie back to me. 



BIRTHDAY POEM 



A BIRTHDAY POEM 

IT was the brightest morning 
That I had ever seen, 
For something whispered to me 

That Rosie was sixteen ; 
I thought that lovely blossoms, 

Like those I often meet 
In summer, by the pathway, 
Should bloom about her feet. 

Will not some kindly fairy 

Go pluck me a bouquet, 
From proud Titania's gardens. 

Which I can send to-day? 
Come, bring me budding roses, 

A Rose, you know, is she 
Who claims this loyal homage, 

A tribute gift from me. 



The spirits tell me sadly 
That not a blossom grows 

Within the forest gardens 
To match my city Rose. 



104 A BIRTHDAY POEM 

I fear that in their envy 
My little bud they '11 bear 

Unto their leafy bowers, 
To plant in beauty there. 

Depart, ye frisky minims, 

I 've nothing more to do 
With any thieving houris, 

Or spirits like to you I 
You shall not have my blossom 

However much you moan ; 
She is not meant for Oberon, 

And she is mine alone I 



TO MEG 



TO MEG 



I HEAR a patter at the door, 
A tap of tender fingers, 
And footsteps on the entry floor, 
Where Meg, my darling, lingers. 

She 's come to tell of dolly's wrongs. 
And how her grief she hushes, 

To father every care belongs, — 
Into my arms she rushes. 

I kiss and comfort as I may ; 

My word her grief assuages ; 
Sweet trifles cause her to delay — 

For only six her age is. 

She is the lady of my heart, 

I swear allegiance truly ; 
From her I never can depart. 

Or near her prove unruly. 



MY BOY 



MY BOY 

HIS mind conceives vast schemes to span 
The nursery floor with railroad plan; 
He sails brave ships, in childish play, 
To Ceylon's Isle and fair Cathay ; 
No land remote or unconfesscd 
Lies hidden from his viking quest ; 
No castle tower can e'er withstand 
His tin-clad soldier's fierce command; 
His knights in tourney never fail. 
His prince must win the Holy Grail ; 
Beforehand it is understood 
He '11 wake the princess in the wood. 
And all the giants' heads will fall 
Before his sounding bugle call ; 
He notes the sound of Ariel's flute, 
When all the ambient air is mute ; 
Each flower reveals its perfect grace, 
And fairies meet him face to face. 



MEG'S HAND 



M EC'S HAND 

WITHIN this narrow space, 
You see we can embrace 
Our dainty Margaret's hand ; 
The love that she conveys 
In winsome baby ways 

You can hardly understand. 

Be sure she sends with this 
An imperishable kiss 

To Auntie, ever dear ! 
And dimples o'er with fun 
To see what she has done 

With little fingers here. 



COLLEGE 
VERSE 



ON THE OLD CHAIR 



ON THE OLD CHAIR 

(In the First Baptist Meeting House: a Ballad 
a la Dobson) 



ANCn^:NT, mellow and brown, 
Flat-bottomed, level and grand ; 
Here flows the dignified gown, 
Here all the candidates stand — 
Tell me, now, is it not grand ? 
Maidens in beauty are there. 
Think of them, men, if you will,— 
This is the President's Chair! 



Think of the crowds it has seen 

Pass as the doorways unfold. 
Gather to talk on the green,— 

Ah 1 we are all growing old. 

Most of our story is told ; 
None with the boys can compare, 

Boys whom we once knew at Brown,- 
This is the President's Chair I 



ON THE OLD CHAIR 



No graduates longer salute, 

Nor, tearful, express a farewell, — 
Philosophy fails to confute 

Errors that science must tell. 

All has been changed by a spell, 
Latin itself does not dare 

Utter itself as we knew, — 

This is the President's Chair ! 

ENVOY 

If we its record could scan. 

Whom would our scrutiny spare ? 
Each President was but a man, — 

This is the President's Chair \ 



CLASS OF 1864 



Read before the 
Class of 1864, Brown University, June 29, 1870 

TIS six years since we met, 
Still I do not forget 
How very jolly 
We all were on that night. 
And how we put to flight 
Old Melancholy. 

Yet I have seen odd times, 
Of strange and divers climes 

The distant shore, 
But everywhere I roam 
My heart still claims its home 

In Sixty-Four. 

Upon Nevada's hills, 
Near California's rills 

And snowy mountains, 
Among Arcadia's pines, 
Columbia's florid vines. 

And tropic fountains, 



CLASS OF 1864 



Still have I thought of Brown ; 
And, as I gazed adown 

The lengthening years, 
Have stopped to breathe a sigh 
For the old days gone by, — 

Their smiles and tears. 

Few were the troubles known 
In those fair hours now flown 

For us, old boys ; 
We paused not then to think 
Of what wc needs must drink 

Beside our joys. 

Yet few have seen a morrow 
That has not brought some sorrow 

To dash their bliss, — 
But though there 's much of pain. 
The joy comes back again 

In spite of this. 

F"or here we are to-night, 

With smiles and laughter bright. 

To greet our baby ; 
To give the silver cup 
With happiness filled up. 

And promise, maybe. 



CLASS OF 1864 



Long live our first-born child, 
I hope " he '11 draw it mild " 

From this fair beaker ; 
That he will truth iuherit, 
And learn to be of merit 

An earnest seeker. 

Let every joy rain down 
Upon this son of Brown 

That is to be ; 
And may we see him own 
A pair of pants full blown 

In Seventy-Three ! 

Grant that he meet a lass, 
First daughter of the Class, 

In future days. 
And do his level best 
To keep her neatly dressed 

And trim, always. 

So, when we end the day. 
And look back, far away, 

To this dim shore, 
'Twill please us in the knowing 
That boys and girls are growing 

For Sixty-Four. 



TO CLASS OF 1864 



TO CLASS OF I 864 

COME, ye who have wandered from Providence 
town, 
Come back to the knees of your dear Mother Brown ; 
Her hands are extended in blessing to-day 
Over all her alumni, the grave and the gay ; 
No child of her bosom should linger away. 

Though melons that erewhile our festival graced, 
The change in commencement forbids us to taste, 
We yet have the turkey, the berries, ice cream, 
And temperance liquids in bountiful stream, — 
And some there are smoking — or is it a dream ? 

Here come the old boys of the Class Seventeen ; 
Great Powers, how many there are in between ! 
Are these all remaining — this elderly twain ? 
There 's many a classmate that never again 
Will help them to build up their Castles in Spain I 

And here are the fledglings of young Eighty-Two, 
Refreshingly tickled to think they are "through." 



TO CLASS OF 1864 



Ah ! me, when they meet in the world's busy strife, 

To struggle for honor or, maybe, a wife, 

With yearning they '11 think of the old college life. 

No troubles perplexed them in those happy years. 
Not even their lessons gave permanent fears ; 
And long may they live, in their ignorance blessed. 
Oblivious to sorrow, to care, and unrest, — 
But no ! I am doubtful if this is the best. 

True sorrow ennobles ; there 's balm with the pain ; 
The sunshine is brightest just after the rain ; 
Whatever their fate then, we hope and believe, 
That whether they glory or whether they grieve. 
They ne'er will forget the Old Mother they leave. 

Nor shall ive forget her in Old Sixty-Four, 
At every triennial we count up a score. 
And if there is virtue in song and in noise, 
I am rather suspicious that we are the boys 
Who '11 take college honors — by making a noise I 



THIRTIETH REUNION, CLASS OF 1864 



Poem read at the thirtieth reunion of Class of 1864, 
June, 1894 

ARE these the old boys of the Class Sixty-Four? 
Our seventy fellows reduced to a score ? 
Why, look at their heads silvered over with gray, 
And all of 'em walk in a rheumatic way ; 
They talk of their wives and their children, forsooth, 
In a way that no longer betokens their youth ; 
They wheeze as they speak of the tricks they once knew, 
Ere early mustaches and side-tabs they grew ; 
They are all reminiscent, a sign of old age. 
And love to look over the previous page ; 
Their girth in some cases is wondrous to see, 
For just look at Kenyon and then gaze at me. 
Extremes thus will meet in the very best class; 
I wish that some fellow that pitcher would pass ; 
" Dry up, you old fool 1 " I hear one remark, 
And lucky for him that he sits in the dark. 
The Class is not old, its standing is straight. 
It takes off its lemon and seltzer first-rate ; 
Among the whole crowd there is not a gray hair. 
On never a brow is the wrinkle of care ; 



THIRTIETH REUNION, CLASS OF 1864 119 

Their wives all adore them for virtuous men, 

You call them asthmatic and aged, what then ? 

Why, just hear them sing, you '11 not have a choice 

But just to award them the prize of the voice. 

There 's Ham, the sweet singer, and Willard and Rhodes, 

Whom e'en the gods envy in happy abodes ; 

Was ever such trio in other class seen ? 

And then, for good stories, I '11 back up our Uean. 

'Tis all precious nonsense to say we are old, 

A classical myth such as poets are told ; 

We have, on the contrary, sipped of the cup 

Filled with vital elixir and drained it all up ; 

Its currents electric now course in our veins, 

And have some effect on our middle-aged brains ; 

At least, for to-night, we are every one boys. 

Just stop that old croaker, why makes he a noise ? 

Come, fill up the cup to the Class Sixty-Four, 

And ring out our anthems and chorus once more, 

Aye, wreathe the fair beaker, and then" drink it down," 

I give you a toast, boys, " Our Class and Old Brown ! " 



TO THE CLASS OF 1864 



TO THE CLASS OF 1864 

OL13 TIME, who neilher rests nor slumbers, 
Whoso ruthless hand no man can stay, 
Has dealt full kindly with our numbers. 
Yet tinged our locks with silver gray. 

We miss anil mourn those passed out yonder ; 

In silence toast their memory dear. 
Which every season renders fonder, 

Methinks they gather with us here. 

But let no tears bedew this meeting — 

The great time of our jubilee. 
Let every classmate give his greeting. 

And speak in words of praise and glee. 

We hail again each loyal brother, 

Fill high your glasses as of yore. 
We '11 toast again our " Dear Old Mother," 

The pride of Brown, Old Sixty-Four. 



ALUMNI DINNER, NEW YORK, 1892 



Read at the dinner of the Brown Akimni at Del- 
monico's, New York, March 25, 1892 

I LOOK all around me to see whom I know, 
First up at the dais, then down at the row. 
I '11 own that I find me but ill at my ease 
Among all these fellows with triple degrees. 

I gaze down the ranks with a sense of surprise, 
To catch the one answering gleam of their eyes. 
Please am I Van Winkle .? Will not some one shake 
My anatomy gently — or am I awake .■' 

Are these the old boys I knew in m)' youth .■' 
Pray tell me if all they have said is the truth ? 
If Harry, and Tommy, and Dick, and the rest, 
Are sitting down yonder all fully confessed .? 

It must be a dream ; I left them but now. 
Yet silver is trailing o'er many a brow, 
And crow-feet meander in wavering line 
O'er faces familiar in days of Lang Syne. 



ALUMNI DINNER, NEW YORK, 1892 



Yes I these ntr the boys ; I perceive it is true, — 
The very same fellows 1 yesterday know. 
The proof? I have heard them this eve "drink it down ' 
In just the old words, to our dear Mother Hrown 1 



POEMS 

O F 

P S I U P S I L C) N 



PSIUPSILON 125 



P S I U I' S I L O N 

HAIL to thee 1 Hail to thee 1 fair Psi Upsilon 1 
Sweet are the mem'ries now leading to thee 1 
No fair laughing maiden that ever I smile on 
Is dear to my heart as thy symbols to me. 

The clasped hands of friendship, the diamond's token, 
Conceal a sweet secret betrayed to the few ; 

The letters depicted remain still unspoken, 
A wealth they convey to each Brother Psi U. 

For though on the mountain or wide-rolling ocean. 
In desert or prairie we wander unknown, 

These letters we welcome with deepest emotion. 
And claim him who bears them indeed as our own. 



In sickness or sorrow, or when the eyes brighten, 
Our dearest Old Mother is kind to caress ; 

The weariest woe she has power to lighten ; 
Our slightest achievement is prone to confess. 



PSI UPSILON 



Then hail to Psi Upsilon ! Guard her forever 1 
We 're true to her watchword in shadow or shine ; 

Be this our proud duty, our utmost endeavor, 
To wear yet unsulHed that diamond of thine. 



THESHIPPSIU 127 



THE s II I r r s I u 

I SIT cUnvn by my door, 
And j;azc upon the shore 
Where waves are breaking" — 
And billows o'er the sand 
Come bounding hand in hand, 
Wild music making. 

I look upon the sea. 
And nothing seems to me 

Now intervening, 
Except a distant craft 
Which gentle breezes waft, 

Onward careening. 

It is the ship " Psi U," 
Borne o'er the waters blue. 

With streamers flying ; 
And hark ! the echoing song — 
' To her we all belong " — 
Now rising, dying. 



THE SHIP PSI U 



The crimson on her sails, 
Now deepens and now pales, 

All in the gloaming ; 
Waves redden with the light 
Save where they break in white, 

Or sparkle foaming. 

Who are the gallant crew 
Of our staunch ship Psi U ? 

Where is she sailing ? 
An answer is borne back. 
Far o'er the foamy track, 

To our loud hailing, — 

We are the Sigma men, 
In numbers six and ten. 

Of passing beauty ; 
We 're striving for the goal 
Which waits each faithful soul 

Who does his duty. 

Go then, brave ship, and bear 
That legend everywhere. 

And Psi U's Glory,— 
Till all the world around 
Hears the triumphant sound, 

And tells her story. 



RAINY NIGHT IN PSI U 



A RAINY NIGHT IN PSI U 

Written in 1872, but read at banquet of Psi U Con- 
vention held with the Eta of Lehigh, 
May, 1888 

THE rains may fall and tempests roar, 
And rage or wail without, 
They cannot shake old Sigma's door, 
Nor quell our joyous shout. 

What care we, boys, for wind or weather, 
When singing here our songs together ? 

Then, brothers, chant some stirring song 

To "Georgia and the Sea," 
No matter if the words are wrong, 
In thought we all agree. 

To Psi U's praise we shout each time, 
Wlio hesitates at paltry rhyme 1 

No pain shall dim our heart's delight. 

We '11 sing while we are able. 
It is enough for us to-night 
To gather round the table. 

To-morrow's grief may dash our joys, — 
Hurrah 1 to-night we 're only boys 1 



ADDRESS TO THE LAMBDA CHAPTER 



Address to the Lambda Chapter, Columbia College, 
N. Y., 1872 

I COME from little Sigma, 
In a lovely little town, 
Which all of us are proud to claim 

Who graduate at Brown. 
And wandering in this city here 

I 'm known without my pin, 
And rescued by the Lambda boys, 
Who kindly take me in. 

I hope that when you visit Brown, 

As all of you must do, 
Some Friday night you '11 find your way 

Upstairs to Old Psi U. 
The road is straight and narrow, 

As that which sinners meet. 
Who strive to reach the promised land 

With faint and weary feet. 

But with Sigmatic guiding 

You '11 reach the wished-for goal, 



ADDRESS TO THE LAMBDA CHAPTER 

And find a feast of reason there, 

And maybe flow of soul. 
Whatever else you there may find, 

I 'm sure that you will meet 
A brother's welcome true and kind, 

And honest words to greet. 

Then sing the praise of Lambda 1 

The Sigma sings it, too. 
And let us not forget the while 

To drink to Old Psi U. 
Within each goblet brimming 

Her glory bubbles up ; 
O, let us catch it ere it goes, 

And drain each joyous cup ! 



NEW YORK PSI UPSILON ALUMNI 



Lines read before the New York Association of Psi 

Upsilon Alumni at Hotel Brunswick, Feb. 16, 

1886, by Edmund Clarence Stedman 

for the author 

A QUARTER of a century 
I 've worn the diamond pin, 
Its apices are quite obtuse. 

Its margins growing thin ; 
But on its ebon surface 

The mystic letters shine, 
And golden hands are interlaced 
As in the Auld Lang Syne. 

Where is the lodge, that jolly den 

We used to occupy ; 
Can Psi U's ever emigrate, 

Can our immortals die ? 
Can such as those we knew in truth 

Be grizzled white or gray, 
Or in their everlasting youth 

Do they come here to-day ? 



NEW YORK PSI UPSILON ALUMNI 133 

I surely felt an ache just then, 

(Synovial membranes dry) ; 
My handkerchief — there 's something wet, 

(Ah 1 tear ducts of the eye 1) 
A wheese asthmatic from the throat, 

(Bronchitis or catarrh) ; 
Old age is creeping on apace, 

These signs and symptoms are. 

One item of anatomy 

Is fresh and hopeful yet. 
The heart that beats for Old Psi U, 

And never can forget. 
Fill up your glasses to the brim, 

Be sure they're running o'er. 
All health and honor to Psi U, 

Both now and evermore 1 



THE CHAPTER HOUSE 



THE CHAPTER HOUSE 

(Lines read at the Alumni Dinner of the Sigma of Psi 
Upsilon, in Blackstone Hall, Providence, June 14, 
1887, Merrick Lyon, LL.D, presiding, Charles J. 
Arms, Beta 63, toastmaster. The matter before the 
meeting was to raise funds for building a Chapter 
House) 

HAD I Aladdins' power, 
The magic of a ring, 
To pour a glittering shower, 

A fairy palace bring. 
To touch a circlet golden, 

A precious lamp to scratch, 
Perhaps I might embolden 
Some millionaire to match. 

The spirits of the ether, 

The gnomes within the earth, 

Though I am hard on neither, 
Reply to me in mirth ; 






THE CHAPTER HOUSE 

■ Go to ! thou dreaming poet, 
No Midas ttiuch is thine ; 
The lamp, we will not show it, — 
Nor that bonanza mine." 

Then I address Pandora, 

That hoyden of the box, 
A safe deposit surer than 

Policies or stocks. 
' O Hope release, fair lady. 

My brother's faith endue. 
Though I am something shady, 

My notes I will renew." 

For here I do proclaim it, 

That when my ship comes in, 
My wealth, who e'er shall name it, 

However vast the tin, 
A slice shall go to Sigma 

To lay her corner-stone. 
And solve " this here " enigma. 

Though I subscribe alone ! 



SIGMA OF PSI UPSILON 



For Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi Upsilon, 
February, 1887 

WHEN a man counts his years as a maple its rings, 
When only a wrinkle each added year brings, 
When his locks hyacinthine are silvered with gray, 
His eyes and complexion show senile decay, 
'Tis pretty hard lines to expect him each time 
He partakes of a supper to fall into rhyme. 

But when the old boys gather here round the board. 

With Sigma's rare dainties so bounteously stored, 

A churl would he be, when the fellows desire. 

If he failed at one effort to tune up his lyre. 

Let his voice be melodious as yonder wild drake. 

With tremolo, quaver, demi-quaver and quake. 

Let him stroke the wrong strings, and the notes all abuse. 

Who cares when his critics are jolly Psi U's.' 

'Tis the sentiment only the Sigma demands, 

The loyal devotion of interlocked hands. 

I give you then " Sigma," the queen of the feast, 
Psi Upsilon's darling, the pride of the East, 
The choicest link in our mystical chain. 



SIGMA OF PSI UPSILON 137 

Lift high all your glasses 1 We '11 toast her again I 
Once more fill your goblets, let each brother clink ; 
'Tis the Sigma, clear brothers, we 're going to drink 1 
Tip the crystal inverted and catch its rare dew, 
No drop shall be lost in our praise of Psi U 1 



NEAR, YET FAR 



NEAR, YET FAR 

BRIEF let me be ! " Yet how be brief 
When memory tells a thousand stories. 
And turns the now historic leaf 

Where all can read Old Sigma's glories ? 

"Parsfiii," so the poet sings, 

Recalling old familiar places ; 

The witty words, the jovial things, 

But, best of all, beloved faces. 

Ah ! Boys, my wraith, like Banquo's ghost. 

Is seated calmy at your table, 
' The board is full I " Not quite, almost ; 
My shadow 's here amidst the Babel. 

Be sure that when the toast goes round, 
And halls reecho with your thunder, 

A stately figure will astound 

You all, with timely words of wonder 1 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1889 



Read at the 
Initiation of the Sigma of Psi Upsilon, li 



THOUGH Sigma has attained the span 
When reproductive function ceases, 
Her offspring — please the records scan — 
Each autumn season still increases. 

Five little boys, or sometimes ten. 
Each lad of most engaging feature, 

We yearly lead within our den — 
And owe to this amazing creature 1 

No mother can her record beat, 

E'en though she strive to reach it, maybe ; 
If Sigma 's not a trump, /'// treat, — 

Yes, " stand it round " for every baby. 

Sweet innocents, just hear them sing. 
Their harmony would equal Haydn, 

And put to shame the siren's song, — 
Or Lorelei, that Rhenish maiden 1 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1889 

It glads my very heart of hearts, 

When I come here each new September, 

To think of all the lively " starts " 
And jolly times that I remember ! 

I doff the staid professor's frown, 
I e'en forget my classroom stories, 

To hear the fellows " drink it down," 
And chant our dear old Sigma's glories. 

I fill my cup with ruby wine ; 

I bow to every loyal Brother ; 
Old Sigma 1 she is mine, and thine ; 

God bless her then, our Dear Old Mother 



SONG TO PSI UPSILON 



SONG TO PSI UPSILON 

(To the tune of Keller's American Hymn, 1890) 

SONS of Psi Upsilon, goodly and tall,— 
Bring ye the treasures of life to her feet, 
Welcome, thrice welcome, to one and to all 1 

Psi U is smiling her children to greet, 
Youthful and aged she hastens to greet. 

Honored and blest be her well-storied hall, 
Year after year when her faithful sons meet. 
Answer again to her glad trumpet call. 

Sing loud to Psi Upsilon, paeans now raise, 

Join the glad hymn to our mother serene. 
Lift all your voices in old fashioned ways. 

Bow ye, in homage, once more to our queen ; 
Bring ye the tribute of love to our queen. 

Songs of the cherished and happy old days. 
Memories that ruthless Old Time, the unseen. 

Spares us, we '11 chant in Psi Upsilon's praise. 



PSI U INITIATION 



AT PSI U INITIATION 
October, 1890 

BY the door of the Chapter 
A little boy sat, 
There he was patiently waiting. 

Full deeply he pondered 
What could they be "at " ? 

Why did they not open the grating ? 
" I hear through the windows 
The echo of glee, 
I wonder what mischief 

They 've invented for me ; 
I wish I had courage 

My sorrow to dree, — 
How long will they keep me awaiting ? 

He heard in the Chapter 

Exuberant din, 
The sound of a billy-goat bleating, — 

The blood in his ventricles 
Grew very thin, 

His heart it was rapidly beating. 



INITIATION 



I wish they would hasten 

To put me right through, 
I long to be with them 

In jolly Psi U ; 
Can all they have told me 

Be actually true ? 
Oh, dear! But this temperature's heating! " 



They came for that Freshman, 

The innocent boy, 
Just now on the point of despairing ; 

They took him up tenderly. 
Not to annoy — 

Four Sophomores stalwart, up-bearing. 
They changed all his anguish 

To jubilant joy. 
They fondled and petted him 

Just to employ, — 
They gave him the latest 

Patented toy. 
While still in the dark he was waiting. 



Who is there can tell 

What that innocent saw. 
By mystical candles depicted ; 



PSI U INITIATION 



Perhaps 't was Jack Horner, 
Or Marjorie Daw, 

Or Blue-Board so deeply afflicted. 
He went to his chamber 

That Walpurgis night, 
And dreamed there strange visions 

Perhaps of delight, 
But ever thereafter. 

If stories are right. 
His legends all sorely conflicted. 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1891 



Read at the Initiation of the Sigma of Psi Upilson, 
1891 

THE Emperor of China awoke from his shmiber, 
And gazed from his window, astonished to see 
A palace whose turrets arose without number, 
Where yesterday stood but a pile of debris. 

Aladdin had done it ; we all know the story — 
By rubbing the wonderful lamp in his hand, 

And causing a genie to cover with glory 

The simplest of freshmen. Say, isn't it grand ? 

Oh 1 could we contrive but his art to discover. 
The architect's secret, the lamp, ring and all. 

We 'd rush with the eagerness due to a lover. 
And build for our Sigma the long promised hall. 

We 've polished our argand with fruitless endeavor, 
No palace arises to gladden our sight ; 

We 've twisted our ring ; the Afrite will never 
Arise to our summons at morning or night. 



146 SIGMA INITIATION, 1891 

Confound his old lamps, his rings and his plunder, 
Some stocks in a railroad, or coupons will do. 

A-bds to all weeping and wailing ! By thunder 1 
This project is ours. Hurrah for Psi U 1 



ALUMNI MEETING, SIGMA OF PSI U 



Read at 
Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi U, April, 1892 

IN silence the temple of Solomon rose, 
In silence the hall of the Sigma grows, 
The architect even there 's nobody knows. 

We 've dreamed of the lodge-room for many a year. 
For months we have stifled each lingering fear, 
Now the rare time of fruition is here. 

I beg you examine each intricate plan, 

Yes, grumble I pick flaws in them all if you can, 

For Sigma, believe me, will have the best man. 

No shanty of shoddy will suit us at all, 

We want the best thing for Psi Upsilon's hall, 

No second-class building, or anything small. 

The "very best families " need the best place 

In which to exhibit an ancestral grace ; 

You sabe I I see then ; the Sigma needs space. 

Don't cramp her or squeeze her, or I do suspect 
She '11 ruin the plans of the best architect ; 
Behold them here, Brothers 1 I beg you inspect 1 



SOD-RAISING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 



Poem read at 

The Sod-Raising of the New Sigma Chapter House, 

Providence, June 20, 1892 

THE sultan to Aladdin said one day, 
" Bring me a palace of proportions grand ! " 
Oh, sire 1 To hear is but to obey, 

I go to excute your dread command 1 " 

He then betook him to his house awhile. 
He rubbed his lamp and precious little ring. 

Then told the genius with a pleasing smile, 
A first-class palace instantly to bring. 

So when, next day, the sultan ope'd his eyes. 
He saw a castle standing at his gate. 

This filled his majesty with much surprise 
And put to flight perplexities of state. 

He called the Vizier, " Abou, look and see ! 

Did ever men such wondrous sight behold .? 
The very minarets are fair to see, 

The windows gleam with jewelry and gold. 



SOD-RAISING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 149 

" Your eldest son whom you commended much, 
Too boldly sought our daughter for a bride ; 
Can he command a palace at a touch ? 
Go, call Aladdin to the royal side 1 " 

The peasant came ; the king received him well. 
The princess smiled, as Psi U ladies can. 

Then whispered, " Darling, please now won't you tell 
Just who contrived this interesting plan ? " 

The Sigma, too, has spirits to compel. 
Who strive to execute each slight behest ; 

They take a longer time, but that is well, 
A firm-built mansion is, by far, the best. 

And so for twenty years, or something more. 
Our slaves have worked upon this little scheme, 

Revolved each problem o'er again and o'er, 
And now, behold ! fulfillment of the dream. 

Boys, brothers, friends, of Old Psi U, 
And ladies bright who wear the diamond pin, 

We bid you welcome to an opening view. 
And later hope that we may ask you in. 



OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 



Read at 

The Opening of the New Chapter House of the 

Sigma of Psi Upsilon, April 14, 1893 

OH AD I, in my Freshman days, 
Once dreamed of such a vision splendid, 
That e'er my medireval gaze 

Should rest on this fair pile suspended ; 

I would have thought my sober sense 
Had suddenly her throne forsaken, 

That, for society's defense, 

I should to some retreat be taken. 

I dreamed, of course, what boy does not ? 

But in sweet, regulated fancies 
My Pegasus would sometimes trot, 

But now, in age, behold, he prances. 

I cannot longer hold him in. 

For Sigma leads him by the bridle ; 

With spurs she prods his glossy skin, 
And will not let him once be idle. 



OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 1 

I fear to-night, from what I see, 
The Hippogriff is sure to stumble ; 

He feels, you know, so full of glee, 
His giddy master he may tumble. 

Who, in these incoherent lines, 

Endeavors thus to show his pleasure, 

And here his simple chaplet twines 
In lieu of more enduring treasure. 

Ah, me ! Despite of all I do, 

Within this fair and goodly palace, 

I cannot think of Old Psi U 
And keep the tears from out my chalice. 

The memories of that older den 

So long familiar in our story, 
And all the hosts of famous men 

I 've known in days of former glory, 

Will dim my sight, but not for long, 
My voice is not attuned to sorrow ; 

Come, let us have one stirring song. 
Though care should claim the coming morrow. 

I toast "The Boys," both young and old, 
I rank myself with those of twenty, — 



OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 



I hope the Sigma's hands will hold 
Certificates in bounteous plenty 1 

That not a dollar she may lack 

To make replete her secret coffers, 

For this we all are welcomed back ; 
The treasurer now awaits your offers. 



SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 



SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 
1894 

I MET a most engaging boy, 
Who told me that the Sigma soon 
Would hold her annual pomp and joy, 
And would I please to write a tune ? 

" We do not care if it is short," 
He said, " if full of fun and wit, 
But have it of that spicy sort 
To spur the freshmen up a bit." 

I eyed him with my coal black eye, 
Erroneously described as blue, 

And said, " Perhaps that I would try 
To sing a song for Old Psi U." 

But when for thirty years or more 
One twangs upon a single string, 

Some hearers vote he is a bore 
How e'er delightfully he sing. 



SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 

But never mind ; when Hazard asks 
We all must tremble and obey, 

Assuming most unusual tasks, 
Like this which I take up to-day. 

Perhaps I should my work begin 
By counseling each tender lad 

To shun the road that leads to sin, 
And never, never, to be bad ; 

To note the ways their fathers walk, 
In paths of virtue, don't you see ? 

And let their sweet and youthful talk 
Be ever in " Epitome." 

Commit that little book to heart. 
Write compositions now and then. 

In short, be ready for each part 
Assigned you by the older men. 

Do always what the Seniors say — 
Avoid the girls — we always did ; 

They have a most insidious way. 

And may delude you — Lord forbid 1 

By turns sweep off the lodge-room floor. 
Remove from every chair the dust, 



SIGMA INITIATION T S 1 



Stand wardens at the outer door, 

And Iced the goat ; indeed, yon must. 

There may be other points, perliaps, 
That in my haste 1 fail to tell, 

But if you heed the other ehaps 

You 're nearly sure to eome out well. 

Be loyal to our baiuier tiue, 

Unsullied wear the diamond (lin. 

Aye, love our mother. Old Fsi U, 
And for lier sake new honors win. 

Thus, after thirty years, maybe, 
Some single man, or ehosen few. 

May stand, with whitened hair like me, 
And say, like me, God bless Psi U 1 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1894 



Read at 
The Initiation of the Sigma of Psi U, October 19, i{ 

IS this Psi U ? It cannot be 1 
It does not seem the place at all, 
Although I hear the sounds of glee 
Re-echo in this mystic hall. 

The boys I knew, Oh ! where are they ? 

I see them in perspective glance, 
But some are gone, and some are gray. 

And others known to fame, perchance. 

Yet though we all are changed, perhaps, 
I see them in their former guise. 

And greetings from those jolly chaps 
Would not at all my mood surprise. 

For Sigma men are never old 

However fate may with them deal, 

They wear the diamond pin of gold, 
The mystic grasp responsive feel. 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1894 

And in the new hall, as of yore, 
They gather on this festive night, 

To sing the ancient songs once more. 
And set some little freshman right. 

A boy myself, I cannot deem 
That I am otherwise than they, 

Psi U is still my spirit's dream, — 
I joined her only yesterday. 



PSI U ENIGMA 



A PSI U ENIGMA 



WHEN from his home on fair Grenada's hills, 
Boabdil, exiled, fled his native land, 
Lamenting vainly all his country's ills, 
My First he wafted to the distant strand. 

My First the maids of Judah knew full well. 
Who hung their silent harps on Babel's shore. 

And wept to think that they were asked to tell 
The holy words they loved in days of yore. 

Armed with my Second, English yoemen stood, 
In brave array, on Crecy's battled field, 

It was the pride of merry Robin Hood, 
And better known than ever spear or shield. 

My Second, as most grammars seem to teach. 

Is plural, but in idiomatic use 
By Quakers is eschewed in forms of speech, 

And subject then to most absurd abuse. 



APSIUENIGMA 159 

My Whole, a daughter of our Union fair, 
To thee, her sons, full well is known to fame. 

Aloft she stands, a Queen beyond compare, — 
Let every Brother shout her glorious name ! 

— 1902 



DINNER TO JUDGE FRANCIS N. FINCH 



Poem read at 
The dinner given at the Hotel Savoy, New York, 
January 24, 1896, by the Psi Upsilon Fraternity to 
Judge Francis N. Finch upon his retirement from 
the Court of Appeals of the State of New York 

SWEET Singer 1 by whose tender touch 
Cemented were the Blue and Gray, 
We hail thee, for we love thee much, 
And welcome thee, our guest to-day. 

The righteous judge, his record scan, 
No blemish there we all agree, 
" The grand old name of gentleman " 
He wears for all the world to see. 

But oft aside the robe he throws 
In restful hours to win the muse. 

And from his pen the rhythm flows 
To glad the hearts of all Psi U's 

In varying moods, now gay, now grave, 
His dulcet harp he plays upon, 



DINNER TO JUDGE FRANCIS N. FINCH 

And gives us many a ringing stave 
In honor of Psi Upsilon. 

I give you then " Our Noble Guest 1 " 
Fill high your glasses to the brim, 

The poet of Psi U confessed — 
We love, we praise, we honor him 1 



O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON 



O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON 

Read for the author at the Annual Dinner of the Psi 

Upsilon Association of New England, 

January 19, 1906 

(To the tune of Mother, dear, Jerusalem) 

O MOTHER, dear, Psi Upsilon, 
How grandly thou hast grown ! 
And every Brother here is one, 
And we, and they, thine own. 
With all thy youthful sons alert, 
Whose loyalty is shown 
By many a gladsome, ringing shout. 
Till each long night is flown. 

O Mother, dear, Psi Upsilon, 

Once more we come to thee. 
From North, from South, from East 

And West, from over land and sea. 
We bring our treasures to thy feet. 

Our children to thy knee, 
Each Brother by the hand we greet 

In love and loyalty. 



O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON 



Then Mother, dear, Psi Upsilon, 

Sweet as thy memories be, 
We come again unto thy shrine, 

And here renew to thee 
The pledge we made in youthful days 

When life was gladness all. 
We chant our loudest hymn of praise. 

Responsive to thy call ! 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 



TORN are the chords, unstrung the harp, 
That once through Sigma stormed and thundered. 
But I, who know each flat and sharp, 
Can hardly say that I have wondered. 

Two score and two 's a lengthy time — 

Be witness every loyal Brother — 
In which "to build the lofty rhyme " 

In praise of her. Our Good Old Mother 1 

Though Paganini's self had tuned 

For me each instrumental number, 
By this time I had surel)- swooned. 

Or sunk in everlasting slumber. 

Were Sigma not a mighty theme 

For individual or for nation. 
Enough to fire a poet's dream, 

Or e'en old Wagner's inspiration. 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 

Enough for me the diamond bright 

On which are 'graved the symbols golden, 

I ever view them with dehght. 
To them are lastingly beholden. 

For simple truth they ever stand, 
Our motto's charm aye underlying, 

The sacred secrets of a band 

Whose noble purpose is undying. 

So, when a summons comes each year 
To sing my song in praise of Sigma, 

I sieze my harp without a fear, 
Nor dread the task as an enigma. 

For boys, despite rheumatic age, 

A youthful spirit ever lingers. 
And turning to our fateful page 

New hope inspires my trembling fingers. 

I once again old times renew, 
To hail each rosy, new-born Brother, 

To shout again for Old Psi U, 

Our Pride, Our Faith, Our Good Old Mother I 



FOR SIGMA SMOKER, 1904 



FOR SIGMA SMOKER 
1904 

10NG years ago, when Greece was young, 
> And college songs were still unsung, 
Old Cadmus, or some other man, 
Contrived a most peculiar plan 
More erudition still to get, 
And called his work an alphabet. 
It proves, although he was a Cad, 
He wasn't altogether mad, 
" He builded better than he knew," 
For thence arose our loved Psi U. 

Still, not indeed for many ages, 

The turning of three thousand pages, — 

Did it occur to Union's sons 

To call themselves " Psi Upsilons." 

We all here profit by the act. 

Resulting from that glorious fact. 

One single letter Cadmus made 

That puts all others in the shade. 

He showed himself full well alive, 



FOR SIGMA SMOKER, 1904 

Our crooked Sigma to contrive, 
For seeing zig-zag lightning flash. 
His style he caught, and with a dash. 
On fair papyrus promptly hurled 
The symbol which astounds the world 1 
Then, as he gazed Time's path adown 
He said, "This letter stands for Brown." 
He meant that noble little band, 
The proudest in our Yankee land, 
That doth present our own Psi U, 
The Sigma, ever brave and true ! 



AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 



AT SIGMA INITIATION 
October, 1895 

I THINK my brothers, one and all, 
The classic legend will recall, 
How once the fair Eurydice 
In Hades did her weird dree. 
For many years, till Orpheus' voice 
Did cause her spirit to rejoice. 
They also will remember well 
What afterwards to her befell ; 
How following him, entranced but mute, 
Enraptured by his dulcet lute. 
She nearly reached the upper air. 
When Orpheus ceased to have due care. 
And she "went back on him," you know. 
Retreating to the realms of woe. 

Now, while I cannot justly say 
In Hades I abide to-day, 
I hope to draw a parallel 
Between me and the Queen of Hell. 



AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 

Each year some sweet-voiced Sigma man 
Just buncoes me on Orpheus' plan, 
And coaxes me until I say 
I'll follow him the upward way, 
And leaves me at the moment when 
I pass the dog that guards the den 
And tells me, as the gate confines 
The Sigma wants my annual lines. 

My hair and verse are growing thin, 

But while I wear the diamond pin, 

And sport the clasped hands of gold, 

I always do what I am told. 

Of years I've done it thirty-five. 

But still I'm here and much alive. 

Each year inveigled by the noise. 

To rank myself among the boys. 

And shout the good old songs once more 

I warbled in the days of yore. 

As champs the war-horse for the fray, 

I seek this fair October day, 

When Sigma, most prolific lass. 

All former efforts doth surpass. 

And, in the presence of her sons, 

Gives birth to new Psi Upsilons. 

'Tis always an inspiring theme. 

And so I fondly sometimes dream 



AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 

When this, my lyre, has ceased to twang, 
In Sigma's hall it still shall hang, 
And Brothers, as they pass it by. 
Will gaze with a triumphant eye. 
Say, " Bailey's harp ! He used to try 
To keep the Sigma's tail on high ! " 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1905 



SIGMA INITIATION 
1905 

OLD Marcus Tullius wrote, 'tis true, 
A book of very many pages, 
In which he told us all he knew 
Or thought, concerning what old age is. 

In many aspects he was right ; 

He had full plenteous bread and honey, 
And never knew, as we know, quite 

The pinch that comes from lack of money. 

The twinges of lumbago ne'er 

He mentions, as his frame assailing. 

Sciatica he did not bear. 
Or else we'd heard him loudly wailing. 

Nor did he know, great pain of all. 
The danger of in youth assuming 

To write in verse, but later fall 

That follows on too much presuming. 



SIGMA INITIATION 



He never was in old Psi U 

Or manj' things he'd known much better, 
And written them for me and you, 

In form of a paternal letter. 



He toyed not with the muse, 'tis thought. 
Presiding over harps and zithers, 

So to his mind was rarely brought 
The question which completely withers : - 



What shall I write ? What shall I sing 
To please a group of jolly fellows ? 

What offering to the shrine may bring 

Which may perhaps suppress their bellows ? 



'Twas easy for old Tully, too. 
To scribble fast, " De Senectiite" 

He kenned not of our proud Psi U, 
And reck'd not much of love and duty. 



He did, though, write of friendship's ties 
And prefixed then a mighty D'am — 

At which his friends felt keen surprise. 
While he said, " What a fool I am 1 " 



SIGMA INITIATION, 



I feel a good deal in his plight, 
To tune my harp for goodly cheering. 

So, Brothers, I will say Good-night I 
For much my critics I am fearing. 

And stunts from every Freshman lad 
Who has not been too far dissected. 

We hope to hear, both good and bad. 
As they, by chance, may be directed. 

One only duty, it is true. 

Remains for me, and nothing other. 
To sound a toast for old Psi U, 

And call a blessing on our Mother I 



MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 



MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 

On April 6th, 1907, Mr. and Mrs. Wm. R.Talbot cele- 
brated Mr. Talbot's entry upon his second half cen- 
tury of Psi U membership. He is of the Lambda 
Chapter of Columbia University, and one of the 
most faithful attendants at meetings of the Sigma. 
These lines were penned at his request 

THIS is a festal occasion, 
Once more does the star of Psi Upsilon 
Beam on the blushing young Talbot, 
' Tis a tale of the Eastern romancer, 
He tells of his fiftieth cycle, 
Of how, on his carpet, he travelled 
To lands of the Peri and Genie. 
Why, look, how at every re-union, 
He comes to review the initiates 1 
' Tis we who are old, not our Talbot, 
He blooms in perennial juvescence. 
Think of the many fine fellows 
He has seen admitted to Sigma ! 
For long ere we note or remember, 



MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 175 

He became part of our record, 

Descended to us by tradition, 

Like Waterman, Rogers, and Diman, 

Like Harkness, Dunn and Dan Beckwith, 

Lippitt, De Mille, and Ned Blanchard 1 

He, who was born of the Lambda, 

Fondled and nurtured by Sigma, 

He came, as we say, by tradition, 

As does our grip and our motto, 

Too sacred for public expression, 

Not to be mentioned unheeding : — 

Always with reverent obeisance ! 

Grew up with yonder rare trophies. 

Grew with Columbian vigor. 

Then, on a day unrecorded. 

He threw in his lot with the Sigma, 

And since has been one of our Brothers, 

Now, were it not for our Talbot, 

We would have to abandon the Chapter, 

Nor rain, nor storm can detain him ; 

No duty prevent his appearing 

When Sigma has met for a session, 

A function or solemn occasion, 

A dance, or play by the Freshmen, 

A smoker or similar festival. 

Then, too, with friendliness beaming 

He opens his house to the Sigma, 



MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 

Spreads a rare feast for the Brothers, 
Served by Psi Upsilon ladies, 
Lovely, and gentle, and kindly, 
Such as we toast on occasion. 
Wear in our hearts, and give pins to I 

Long life then to good Brother Talbot 1 
Health to his wife and his daughters 1 
Fifty years more to his record 1 
In which, each recurring November, 
Shall we see him again at the Sigma, 
Younger than trembling initiates, 
Youngest, indeed, of the Brothers I 



THE FLAG OF PSI U 



THE FLAG OF PSI U 

Read at the banquet of the 74th Annual Convention 
of the Psi Upsilon Fraternity, held with the Delta 
of the University of New York, April 12, 1907, in 
the large dining-room of Hotel Waldrof Astoria, 
New York. About five hundred brothers present. 



HERE is the flag of Psi U 
Brilliant, and spotless, and new, 
Garnet and yellow in hue. 

Clasped hands in gold thereupon, 
And letters, Psi Upsilon, 
Written above and below. 
Symbols that all of us know 
Beloved Psi Upsilon ! 

Long may these letters stand 
For all that is good in the land. 
Known to our brave little band ; 
To this, our own jolly crew, 
Let us our efforts renew ! 



THE FLAG OF PSI U 



May we each Chapter sustain 1 
Give them three cheers again ! 
Hurrah, Hurrah for Psi U I 

Fling out the garnet and gold I 
Guarded by Brothers so bold ! 
Sign of a treasure untold, 

Let it fly wide to the breeze ! 

Waving o'er lands and o'er seas ! 
Nail our brave flag to the mast ! 
May all its victories last ! 

Once more to the Flag of Psi U 1 



INITIATION AT SIGMA, 1899 



INITIATION AT SIGMA 
1899 

I TAKE down my harp from the peg where 'tis 
hanging — 
The harp that old Chronos doth roughly abuse, 
To see, if once more I can set its chords twanging, 
In praise of old Sigma and all the Psi Us. 

For thirty-nine years it is annually playing 
A tune which essentially bideth the same, 

My fingers are lovingly over it straying, 

And striving once more its wild notes to reclaim. 

The music's still in it, I know by the feeling. 

Melodious chords I never yet sung ; 
I hear as brave symphonies over me stealing 

As those which at former festivities rung. 

But how catch the tune that forever is fleeting ? 

The p^ean that fitly gives praise to Psi U ? 
What words can I give at this^annual meeting ? 

I surely would chant them if ever I knew. 



180 INITIATION AT SIGMA, 1899 

The clasped hands of gold on our diamond shining, 

Are surely a text for a poet or seer ; 
Those mystical letters forever entwining, 

Remain for each Brother perpetually dear. 

Then, sweet little Freshmen, each wonderful Brother, 
I hope you will utter your tenderest lay, 

Will keep in your mind, dear Old Sigma, Our Mother, 
And bring her new honors for many a day 1 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 



SIGMA INITIATION 
1907 



WHEN Judah's maidens sat adown and wept, 
By Babylon's streams where hung their harps 
un swept, 
They pleaded loud, " they could not understand ; 
How sing the Lord's song in a foreign land ? 
How dare the once-loved music to essay 
Or by these distant rivers seek to play ? " 
So have I found it ever seem a task, 
When far from home, a stranger youth doth ask 
That I shall chant, in words however few, 
To other Chapters, songs of Old Psi U. 
My heart for Sigma ever is so full. 
On other themes, alas I I have no pull. 
Not e'en the old Fraternity at large 
Can launch with safety my reluctant barge. 
Its sails refuse to catch the wind and fill ; 
In other words, I cannot write at will. 
'Tis only when Old Sigma's " tail " demands, 
My zither answers to my palsied hands. 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 



But, Brothers, even then, is it quite fair 
To call an ancient from the patriarch's chair. 
Which he for forty-seven years has filled, 
And ask for nectar many times distilled ? 
In life's alembic stirred about so much. 
That only dregs respond unto his touch ? 
(My metaphors are sadly mixed, I fear. 
Let no one stand for good old Rhetoric here. 
Since once it throve beneath Professor Dunn, 
A favorite child of old Psi Upsilon, 
You'll find his portrait hung in yonder room, 
His smile pervasive as a rich perfume, 
Recalling phrases ever sweet and mild, 
Drawn from the " well of English undefiled)." 
Shall I forever answer to your call, 
Whenever summoned to this ancient hall ? 
Cannot some understudy get at once in train 
For that quick time when you shall call in vain ? 
****** 
Not any fellow in the crowd can dodge 
When he's commanded in this sacred lodge. 
Don't go so often to the same old well. 
Lest it should lose its potency and spell. 

Well, now I'm up, as politicians say, 

I'm up for good, and mean awhile to stay, 

Like brave McMahon, in the gloomy days 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 

Of Third Republic's very devious ways. 

At least I'll answer in a word or two 

To what I'm called for, Sigma and Psi U, 

The mother and the daughter ever fair, 

In all experience far beyond compare. 

Stick to them both, ye Brothers, old and young 

Sing ye the songs we ancients always sung, 

Fill ye your glasses to our banner bold. 

The glorious colors, garnet and old gold ! 

If ye but stick to harmless lemonade 

Don't fear that you '11 mistake a sable spade 

For other cards of some attrocious hue. 

Though all are trumps we hold here in Psi U. 

Now in most proper terms, expressions bright. 
Respond as fitting, to each toast to-night. 
Long live the Sigma ! God bless old Psi U ! 
May every year her record proud renew. 
Let courage fill the soul of every man. 
That he may keep her motto and her plan. 
And, as old Catlin says, who's ever knowin'. 
Hold to her fast, aye, "keep her still agoin' ! " 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 



SIGMA INITIATION 
1900 

WHERE is that cup of ruby wine 
We used to quaff in Auld Lang Syne 
When toasting here the " Dear Old Shrine ? " 

Will not some brother lead a raid 
For liquids of superior grade 
To cold and feeble lemonade ? 

I note in Brother Gardner's e'e, 
He fully doth accord with me, 
And that fair chalice longs to see. 

He has, indeed, implied a doubt 

If such a cup was e'er about, 

As used to bring the old-time shout. 

Sweet cynic, I assure you here. 
Although you deem it passing queer. 
That cup existed many a year, 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 



And may, indeed, be still on earth ; 
No subject for unseemly mirth ; 
A treasure still of passing worth. 

Who linows but Gardner next will carp 
About old Bailey's well-strung harp, 
And other things considered sharp ? 

No matter, there is such a lyre, 
"Still pregnant with celestial fire," 
To hurl on foes invectives dire. 

He might as well, one would suppose, 
Think Ham was dead, when each one knows. 
His Irish gent's but in repose. 

Anon, when yonder cup is found, 
And with the ruby drop goes round, 
We'll hear of Noah, I'll be bound. 

But not at such a time as this 
May I strike any chord amiss, 
Or interrupt such perfect bliss. 

The hour belongs to Old Psi U, 

And if I tell her nothing new. 

My utterance shall, at least, be true. 



SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 

To each and all, both Pa and Son, 
I wish an evening full of fun, 
Forever live Psi Upsilon I 



r^r, ' 16 ie<^ 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



